


Liar

by Lyowyn



Series: Sympathy For The Devil [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyowyn/pseuds/Lyowyn
Summary: House is on a secret mission. Wilson tries to prove that he's the real Dr. James Wilson.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Series: Sympathy For The Devil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686829
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Liar

"Thirty-nine year old woman referred from St. Francis. She just turned purple." Cuddy tried to hand him a file, but House deflected it with his cane and hit the button on the elevator.

"Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus Aureus," he said as the doors opened.

Cuddy followed him into the elevator. "I tell you I have a purple patient, and you don't even want to look?"

"As interesting as The Grimace sounds, I have bigger fish to fry. If she just transferred over from Trenton, I'm going to go ahead and say that she picked it up there, but you should isolate her and start sanitizing everything; you'll want to inform St. Francis."

"How can you not want to see the _purple_ patient?"

"I told you; I'm busy. Have Foreman confirm and start her on vancomycin and teicoplanin."

Cuddy suddenly realized that they were heading for the doors. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Four hundred dollar butt plug," he tried.

"House!" She followed him out into the parking lot.

"That really does seem as though it should work better. In any case, we're talking top priority super secret stuff here, so I can't tell you… because it's super secret."

"And it's more important than my patient?"

"Your purple patient with MRSA? Yes."

"But you're not going to tell me?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. It's super secret, remember?" He clipped his cane into its holder and straddled his bike.

"I remember," Cuddy sighed. "Fine, go, but be back in two hours. You have clinic duty."

"Yes mom!" he yelled at her as he gunned the engine and drove away.

Cuddy shook her head and started back into the hospital. "I hope he really is spending four hundred dollars on a butt plug," she muttered.

Two hours later, Foreman had confirmed MRSA, the patient had been isolated, and St. Francis had been informed of the possible health risk, but House still wasn't anywhere to be found. There was only one thing for it; she'd have to go to Wilson.

"Do you know what House is up to?"

Wilson looked up from his paperwork to see Cuddy glaring accusatorily down at him. "What? You mean more than the general stuff, I take it."

"He disappeared two hours ago after refusing to see my MRSA patient."

"MRSA sounds like a diagnosis. What did you need House for?"

"I didn't know she had MRSA. She was just purple at the time."

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Since when is being purple not a good enough reason to see a patient? I can't have my doctors disappearing when I need consults."

"If House already gave you a diagnosis, then you don't need a consult."

"But the diagnosis could have been wrong."

Wilson raised that eyebrow again. "Did you try paging him?"

"Twice."

Wilson shrugged. "Well I don't know where he is. He didn't mention where he was going at all?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "He said he was going to buy a four hundred dollar butt plug."

Wilson flushed visibly, but Cuddy ignored it. "Could you just call him for me? He'll answer for you."

"Yeah, all right, fine. I just have to do a quick exam first." Wilson was still a little flushed, and avoiding her gaze.

The moment Cuddy left his office, Wilson hit the speed dial for House's cell.

House felt his phone vibrating against his leg. He stopped to dig it out, expecting Cuddy, and was pleased to see Wilson's name displayed on the screen. He took a second to check his watch. Two hours, Cuddy didn't waste any time. He flipped the phone open, but didn't say anything.

"Four hundred dollars? What is it made out of, gold?"

"What has Cuddy told you?"

"What? Nothing. Why? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, but all that's top secret."

"What? Are you working for the C.I.A. again?"

"No."

"Then where are you?"

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to prove to me that you are in fact Dr. James E. Wilson before I can divulge that information. Did you know that your initials spell Jew?"

"What? Yes. House, it's me."

"Isn't that exactly what the imposter J.E.W. would say?"

"It's exactly what the real one would say, since it's what _I'm_ saying _right now_. And, since when do I have an imposter?"

"There's no way to know that you haven't been compromised. You have to prove that you are who you say you are."

"What's going on House?"

"Prove it."

Wilson sighed, "Fine, what do you want to know?"

House was perusing his way through the porn rack at the back of a convenience store just outside Princeton. He paused for a moment to let the silence fall more ominously, and to scan a particularly interesting article at the back of one of the more risqué skin mags, When he felt that Wilson had stewed quite long enough, he dredged their past for some suitably embarrassing event for the man to recount.

"Tell me how we met," he said finally.

House could tell that Wilson was frowning on the other end of the line.

"We work at the same hospital; our offices are right next to each other. You need oncology consults all the time."

"That might be _why_ we met, but that definitely isn't _how_ we met. I don't know how I'm supposed to believe that you're the real Wilson when you can't even remember the simple chain of events that led to our auspicious introduction."

Wilson sighed, and House grinned. He turned the corner, and began scanning a shelf full of candy.

"Where would you like me to begin?" Wilson asked after a moment.

"At the beginning."

"Theological or astrophysical?"

"At the hospital."

"Oh, I see." Wilson cleared his throat and made a failed attempt at a James Earl Jones impression. "In the beginning Cuddy said unto Jimmy the wonder-boy Oncologist, 'come, be my head of Oncology,' and Jimmy said, 'Do I get my own office?' And, Cuddy said, 'Yes,' and it was good."

House had to fight back a chuckle. "Was this before she killed all the first born sons of Egypt and made Moses lead a bunch of angry Jews around the desert for two hundred years?"

"Yes, this was pre-plagues Cuddy."

"Of course, go on. By the way, Your James Earl Jones sounds exactly like your Sean Connery."

"James Earl Jones? That was supposed to be James Mason."

House couldn't hold back the laughter that time. "Well in that case, maybe we should dispense with The Old Testament altogether."

"Fine, where was I?"

"Somewhere after the creation of the universe by a bureaucratic god with a pair of c-cups."

"Right," Wilson paused. "So at some point between meeting God and the Devil…"

"I'm the Devil in this analogy?"

"Of course. Right, so at some point between being hired and being corrupted, I found myself at a benefit dinner."

"Purgatory."

"My wife was busy chatting with a woman that she'd known in grad school, and I was getting tired of doing the meet and greet with Cuddy's endless barrage of foundation members and hospital donors, so I decided to go up to my office and finish going over my patient files."

"Just for clarity, which ex-Mrs. Wilson would this have been?"

"The first one. And, you know what? I was happily married before I met you. That's the reason why all my wives leave me; they just can't stand you."

"You're right. It couldn't possibly be your need for neediness or the adultery; it has to be the work of the Devil."

"Give the Devil his due."

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

"Milton?"

"Wilde."

"It would be. Have I convinced you of my identity yet?"

"Not quite. Please continue."

Wilson sighed, and drummed his fingers on the top of his desk. "So I went up to my office, but the door was locked, and I'd left my keys at home. I tried to find a custodian, but there weren't any on the floor. I remembered that the balcony of my office was connected to yours, so I thought that I might be able to get in that way. I tried your door and it was unlocked, so I went in. It was dark, so I didn't know that there was anyone there."

"Why didn't you turn on the light?"

Wilson balked before answering. "I didn't want to attract any attention. The last thing I wanted was to get caught sneaking around your office. I'd only just started a couple of days before, and we hadn't met yet, so…" he trailed off.

"So, what?"

"So I didn't want you to catch me sneaking around in your office. I'd already heard enough stories about how insane you were… _are_."

"You thought I would hurt you?"

"No. At least, I don't think so, but I didn't want to be on the crazy guy-next-door's bad side. You were annoying enough as it was."

"Me, annoying? _Never_ ,” House said with mock hurt.

"My very first day, while I was unpacking, you had a rock concert in your office with an orderly and that weird guy from Pedes."

House smirked. "You just don't have any appreciation for music."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if the guy from Pedes wasn't completely tone deaf."

"Well you try to find someone who looks like Johnny Ramone at _that_ hospital; it's impossible."

Wilson groaned. "Fine, so I was creeping through your office in the dark when I noticed that you were sleeping on the couch. I was already to the balcony door, so I figured I might as well just continue the way I was going. I made it out onto your balcony and across onto mine, in the dark, without killing myself, by some miracle. But, when I tried the door, it was locked. I had no choice but to return through your office, except when I climbed back over the barrier I realized that I'd been locked out. It took me a moment before I noticed you standing on the other side of the glass, but when I did, it startled me, and I jumped back; I tripped over a pot of dead flowers and fell on my ass."

"That was pretty funny."

"I sprained my wrist! I scuffed my palms trying to catch myself. I was bleeding everywhere, and you wouldn't let me in."

"You could have been a burglar. I had to protect the hospital."

"It took me ten minutes to convince you to let me in."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. I bandaged you up, and I helped you break into your office; you can't hold a grudge."

"You had a key!"

"Well, if you would have just asked, instead of lurking around in the dark like a bandit."

House was at the register now. He put his hand over his mouthpiece and indicated to the attendant which pump he had gas on. As an afterthought, he grabbed a ring pop out of the bin on the counter and added it to his small stack of purchases. The attendant gave him a look, but Dr. House had had more than enough of disrespectful gas station attendants for one week. He threw fifty bucks down on the counter, and left without saying anything.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Am I the real J.E.W.?"

House stuffed his purchases into his backpack and pulled out a road map.

"Yeah, you're the real J.E.W."

"So?"

He scanned a fingertip along interstate 176.

"So, what?"

"So, where are you?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that; it's a secret."

"What? You said you'd tell me once I proved I was the real Wilson."

"I lied."

"So what am I going to tell Cuddy?"

"Make something up."

"Just tell me where you are."

"Nope. It's a surprise."

"It's not the butt plug is it?"

"You wish."

"So when are you going to be back?"

"Tonight."

"Okay, see you then."

"Oh, and Wilson…"

"Yeah?"

"I never thought you were a burglar."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments of all shapes, sizes, and varieties are very much appreciated. I love to hear from you.
> 
> Blanket permission is granted for all translation, podfic, and fanart- as always. So, if that's something you're interested in, feel free. My playground is your playground.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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